Her
by ahornblaetter
Summary: Every day, it seemed as if it was one day less until he could see her again. One day closer to the end… One day closer to the beginning. [Laguna reminisces]


-Her-

**-Her-**

_The wind seems to sigh as it brushes over the field, carrying the browned petals of long-dead roses with it. The soft breeze toys with your hair, sweeping it coyly against your cheek as you catch a single petal in your hand. Isn't it funny that roses were her favourite? Isn't it funny that this is where you first met? And isn't it funny that this is where you proposed? You struggle to see the humour in it._

_You still have your wedding ring. It's been so long … You look at the silver band, a nostalgic smile on your face. It was raining that day. As you close your eyes, you can still remember the smell of the damp air, the feel of the cool wind as it made its way over the bluff. Too bad the only proof you have that it ever happened at all is in your memory. Too bad the only proof of her existence is carved in marble._

_You open your eyes, crouching down beside her resting place. You trace her name with a finger, picturing her face in your mind. At least her memory is ageless. You remember how small she was, how she clung to you. You loved being with her, looking into her eyes. They were an enigmatic blue, grey in some lights. _

_You stand slowly, lifting your eyes to the sky, and exhale. The air is so fresh; it's almost as if you're breathing her essence. You miss that. _

_It's been so long since you saw her … You had a son, lost for so long, who came back to you not so long ago. Your daughter was always there with you._

_You look to the horizon, thinking how it doesn't seem quite so alluring as you grow older. Finally, you're through with your adventuring. The time for experiencing the world's wonders is past. It's time to settle down, spend some time with your family. You haven't done that in years… _

_You can see your children coming to you, small figures on the horizon, but soon they'll stand by you, looking at the grave of the mother they barely knew. Soon they'll be smiling at her memory with you, and only your smile will be forced. You can't pretend that looking at your son doesn't remind you of her. He has her stormy eyes. You struggle not to resent him, winning most of the time, because your nature doesn't let you lose touch with reason. You're too easy going for that. _

_But still, every day that passes, you yearn for her a little more. Sometimes, you wish you weren't there. You wish you were with her again. But you don't want to die – you still want to spend time with your children. If only she'd lived … You wouldn't hurt so much if she had. Every day, it seems as if it's one day less until you can see her again. One day closer to the end… One day closer to the beginning._

_You give your daughter a small wave. It isn't so long since she was small. It isn't so long …_

_You're taking care of the small things, you tell yourself. So that when the end comes, you're ready. Like talking to them again. You haven't talked – really talked – to your daughter in years, and you need to become acquainted with your son. Now's the time to resolve that._

_Time to stop thinking, you tell yourself, you get lost when you think too much … _

_You put on a grin and begin to talk to them. Things might just be starting to look up._

You smile as you open your eyes. Remembering always does you good. Remembering her…

You pick up your memoirs, smiling at the finished book. Maybe you'll send it to the publisher tomorrow, you muse, and set it down on the table, running your fingers over the coarse paper. Everything you've ever known is recorded in those pages … Your whole life, from beginning to end, laid bare.

It's hard to believe it's been thirty years since that day by her grave. Hard to believe it's forty-seven since you've last seen her. Her. You close your eyes, feeling complete.

Like the epilogue to one of the books you've written, everything is drawing to a close, all the loose threads are tied up. There's nothing left to do. You can close the book, satisfied that the story has been ended justly.

At last, you feel that everything is finishing up. You've lived a good life; seen the world, watched your children grow old as you grow older; doted on your grandchildren, so like their parents… You have nothing to lose by leaving the world … nothing at all. Because when you lose everything … all you can do is gain. When there's nothing left … anything you can get is something more than you had. Your children didn't need you any more. You're free of obligation, for the first time in your life. Free…

Yes, your life is whole at last, in every respect you can think of. Except for her. It won't be long now, you know.

When you lay down to sleep that night, you drift off with a smile on your face. A cool breeze drifts past as your consciousness begins to slip away. The last breath you take is her.


End file.
